


Project Lizzie

by gleefully_musical



Series: elizabeth! oh, my own heart! [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Other, anne is sad, kitty has a big brain and you all sleep on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefully_musical/pseuds/gleefully_musical
Summary: When Anne is grumpier at the breakfast table than usual, the others know something's up. They make it their mission to find out what, and how they can help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction everyone! I hope you enjoy:)

The group of queens was a steady friendship now. They told each other problems and cried on each other's shoulders. Anne had taken the longest to open up, but even she would sob out whatever was eating her up most days. That's why what happened on the morning of September 3rd surprised them all so much.

It had started off as a normal day. Jane woke up first, closely followed by Aragon, and the two made breakfast and coffee for the others. Katherine stumbled downstairs not long after, an exhausted looking Anna and Parr following. They all sat around the table and sipped their coffee whilst waiting for the final queen to emerge.

Anne made quite the entrance, as usual, stumbling down the stairs rubbing her eyes, then tripping over her heely she had left at the bottom of them, falling face first, and landing right on Wolfie's dog dish, which was full of food. Ignoring the others' laughter, she stormed over to her chair beside Kitty, sat down heavily, and crossed her arms.  
That was the first clue something was wrong. Normally, Anne would have posed and expected them to applaud or something silly like that. But she just grabbed the eggs and began piling them onto her plate with more force than was necessary.  
"Anne, love?" Jane asked softly. "Are you alright?".  
"M'fine." Anne murmured through a mouthful of food. The others fell into easy conversation, talking about the day ahead, but Jane kept watching Anne. Something about the dark haired girl was making her nervous.  
After Kitty had told them all of her and Anna's plan to go to the nearby town fair, the queens got pretty noisy and excited. It wasn't until Anna started a chant about cotton candy that Jane noticed the second queen covering her ears and wincing, shrinking back into her seat.   
"Anne, are you sure you're alright?".  
"I said I was fine, Jane. Leave me alone!". And with that, Anne abruptly stood up from the table, pushed in her chair, and stormed up the stairs all the way to her attic bedroom.

Aragon broke the silence that followed in the kitchen.   
"What's wrong with her?".  
"I'm not sure. Maybe she had a nightmare?" Cathy answered.  
"Maybe she just doesn't like cotton candy!" Anna said.  
"Are you people for real?" Katherine called out over the din that emerged. "It's September 3rd. In her old life, Anne was heavily pregnant, confined to her rooms, and about to give birth to Elizabeth today!". The four other queens mouths' opened in a wide O. 

"I should have realized. I was her lady in waiting at the time! Why didn't I remember?" Jane chastised herself. Katherine shook her head.  
"No, you've been really busy lately. We all have. It's just that Anne was suffering, alone. We need to get better at realizing that.". The others nodded at what the teen was saying. They all felt horrible. Just as they all stood up to go see Anne, a terrible crash came from the attic.  
Anne's room.


	2. Little Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine decides it's time to take matters into her own hands. Anne cries a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support of last chapter! Here goes...

Meanwhile, upstairs in the attic, Anne was having a bit of a moment. She had gotten out the only portrait of Elizabeth she could print off on the library computer before the scary old librarian found her, and was hugging the frame tight to her chest, sobbing heavily as she ran through all the memories she had of her only daughter. There weren't very many. 

Anne hadn't seen a lot of Elizabeth when she was alive, merely getting permission from Henry to bring her when she needed to be there for state events, and occasionally when she was pregnant, in hopes that her only surviving child would remind her of what was at stake. 

But she could still remember the faintly strawberry blonde hair that wasn't much like the deep red she saw in older Lizzie, could remember the sturdy, soft young body she had cuddled and loved. Anne could even remember the light patter of Elizabeth's feet as she ran towards her parents, and the small cry of "Mama, Papa!" that would emerge from that pink mouth.

It wasn't enough. She had only that. Jane remembered other parts of her daughter, Anna even more, even Kitty knew her daughter, knew what she liked, disliked, knew her aptitude for learning, which was apparent even then. Cathy was who she was most jealous of, the queen having gotten to live with her teenaged Elizabeth for some time, and being a very good mother to her. It just wasn't fair. Henry got to see Lizzie grow into the young girl she became, and she got three pitiful years and a head to the chopping block.

Angry, Anne threw her large book of poems she was reading the night before at the wall, thus creating the terrible noise the others heard downstairs. She lay down on her bed and sobbed, her whole body shaking. Finally, Anne felt a gentle hand on her back. Turning her head, she recognized her cousin through the blur of tears. 

Kitty had run upstairs immediately, all thoughts of breakfast gone by then, yanking Anne's door open and standing there in front of her cousin. What she saw broke her heart. Anne was a shaking heap on her mattress. Touching him her older cousin gently on the back, she began stroking her softly, humming an old lullaby that she had heard Elizabeth's nurse sing to her. Anne calmed eventually, falling asleep in Kitty's arms. Katherine continued tracing circles on her back, until something in a black frame caught her eye.

Picking it up, she noticed that it was an old portrait of Elizabeth, done after she had known the girl. There were tear prints all over the glass. Katherine made up her mind right then and there. 

Anne needed help. And she was going to be the one that gave it to her. Project Lizzie had officially begun.


	3. And so it Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine presents her plan to the others. Aragon has some reservations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you love this as much as I loved writing it!

After she was sure Anne was good and asleep, Katherine crept out of her room as quietly as she could. Tiptoeing down the creaky attic stairs, she went over what she knew in her head. 

It was September 3. Elizabeth was born on September 7, 1533. Anne missed her daughter, was jealous of the time she had spent with the other queens, and felt guilty about the fact that Lizzie didn't have her biological mother almost her while life.

Kitty knew that she needed to help out her cousin. But the truth was, she hadn't spent much time with Elizabeth either. The girl was about nine when she was beheaded, and she didn't come to court all to often, as was befitting her age and station. However, if all the queens got together, Katherine knew they could come up with something for Anne. Preferably before September 7.

When she made it to the bottom of the admittedly large staircase, Kitty walked into the living room, where the others sat waiting for her. Jane was pale faced, looking very nervous while cuddled into the large armchair. Cathy and Aragon were sitting primly on the sofa, and Cleves was stretched out along the carpet.

"Is she okay?" Jane asked, twiddling a piece of her hair around her fingers. Kitty nodded.  
"About as well as to be expected, I suppose. She cried herself to sleep.". The queens murmured their sympathy. Katherine looked around her at the others. "I have an idea. Anne didn't know Elizabeth for very long, but all of us put together knew her for her whole childhood almost, and even into her teenaged years. I think we should make a scrapbook about our time with Lizzie, and give it to Anne on Lizzie's birthday!". Almost immediately, Cathy spoke up.  
"That's a wonderful idea, Katherine. I'm sure I have many things to contribute.". Jane and Cleves nodded their agreement.

Aragon, however, sat up even straighter. "I didn't know Elizabeth." she said softly. "How am I supposed to contribute?". Cleves spoke up first.  
"Maybe you didn't know Beth, but you did have a daughter of your own, Mary. I'm sure you can sympathize with Anne, and your part in the book could be about that." the louder queen said, proud of her idea. Aragon nodded slowly.  
"I can certainly do that.". 

"Perfect!" Kitty clapped her hands excitedly. "Project Lizzie begins now!". Jane pulled out a giant scrap booking bin from seemingly nowhere, surprising none of them.  
The women grabbed paper, pens, glue, and all the other supplies they needed and got right to work. Project Lizzie had officially begun.


	4. Hever Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna reflects on the time she shared with Elizabeth whilst trying to come up with what to write on her page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this!

Anna blew a piece of hair out of eyes and sighed in frustration. Staring down at the page in front of her, she picked up the marker and uncapped it. 

What was she supposed to write? "Hey Anne, I know that Henry killed you when Beth was three, but I survived the longest out of all of us and became a friend of hers! She liked books and writing, but she hated people trash talking you! #iwasclosertoyourdaughterthanyou were!". She really didn't want to come off rude. Anna knew she had a tendency to be loud and sometimes callous, but she knew that Elizabeth had been important to Anne. So she took a deep breath, hovered the pen over the paper, and began to write.

Hever Castle, 1542

"Her Grace, the Lady Elizabeth!" announced the herald, a look of great importance on his face. Anna nodded to him gratefully, causing him to blush. She stepped forward into a curtesy.  
"My lady, I hope you are well?". Elizabeth, now nine years old, curtsied back, a calm look upon her young face that was years older than she was.  
"Quite well, my lady Anne. I trust you are comfortable in your lodgings?". Anna smiled.  
"Yes, your grace. They are much better though, now that you have arrived.". The young girl blushed slightly, following Anna into the estate. 

Now that the formal part of the afternoon was over, Elizabeth hugged Anna ferociously as soon as they were out of sight of the servants and courtiers. Anna stroked the girl's flaming red hair, pulling her close. Thank God that Henry had permitted her to see her darling former stepdaughter. She was always close to Elizabeth, even when at court. Now, housed in her favourite palace, Elizabeth's mother's family home, she felt she needed to show the girl around.

After all, if the infamous Anne Boleyn was still alive, she would have wanted Elizabeth to know where she had spent much of her young childhood. At least Anna assumed she would. Anne Boleyn was an unmentioned subject at court, an enigma. But Anna knew she would want any daughter of hers to know about her upbringing.

"Elizabeth, do you know where we are?" Anna asked the nine year old as they sat in the courtyard, the maids a respectful distance away.  
"Why, yes, my lady. This is your primary residence, one of the many my father gifted you with. It's rather beautiful, I quite like it here.".   
"No Elizabeth. That's all true, of course, but that's not the reason I really would like it if you came here often. Elizabeth, what know you of your mother?". The small girl sat immediately upright.  
"My lady stepmother Katherine is kind to me. She is very young, but she dances beautifully. My father is quite enamoured with her. Why do you ask me this question?". Anna sighed inwardly at the brainwashing that Henry had done to his small daughter.  
"No, my dear Elizabeth. Your real mother. Anne Boleyn.". She felt the small girl stiffen slightly, and then Elizabeth let out a sigh.  
"I'm-not very much, I'm afraid. I remember a kind face and a warm voice. That's all. I was very young when she did bad things and had to die. Papa doesn't permit me to learn about her.". 

Once more, Anna found herself frustrated with Henry. He was obviously trying to protect his young daughter from becoming like her mother, although Anna seriously doubted Anne Boleyn had done anything wrong. But by refusing to let Elizabeth learn about her mother, he was only making life harder for the girl.

"Well, my dear Beth, I didn't ever get to meet your mother, so I'm afraid I won't be much help with that. But I can show you around Hever. Beth, your mother spent her childhood here. This is the Boleyn family home.". She detected a small flare of excitement in the girl's eyes, before Elizabeth once again painted on the mask that she was so gifted at.  
"I'm not sure if me knowing more about Mama is a good thing. Papa wouldn't like it.". Anna smiled mischievously.  
"Well then, I guess we won't tell him.". Elizabeth let out a small giggle, and grabbed Anna's hand, pulling her back into the halls.  
"Please show me everything, Anne. I want to see it all!".

And with that, Anna took the girl's gloved hand, and with a swish of skirts, the two began exploring Hever Castle. A young girl got to know her mother better, and a lady got to spend time with the best thing that ever happened to her.

Present Day  
Anna wiped away a stray tear. She glanced at what she had written.

My time with Elizabeth was very precious to me. She was such a sweet child, always learning, even well into her adulthood. We spent many an afternoon together, and in that time, I got to know the girl behind the grownup mask that Henry painted for her.

She still called you Mama, even until I died.  
She remembered your voice and face, until she was twelve, and cried for hours in my arms because she missed you so much.  
I showed her Hever Castle, and she loved it.  
I called her Beth, others called her Bess, but she always preferred Lizzie, because she knew you called her that.  
She treasured your B necklace for as long as I knew her.  
Elizabeth had a portrait of you in her room.  
She would beg me for stories about you, even though I told her time and time again I never met you.  
She loved you with every fibre of her being.  
I hope this helps.  
-Anna  
Capping the marker, Anna surveyed her work, and smiled. Her page of the scrapbook was done in red, mostly. Yes, that was the colour of her costume, but she loved the colour red because that was the colour of Elizabeth's hair. Man, she missed that kid.  
Picking up the page, she walked over to the table and inserted it into the scrapbook. She was done.

Time to go look at old pictures of Hever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like a lot of people don't know that one of the things Anna of Cleves asked for when she divorced Henry was to still be allowed to see Elizabeth. She was even once described as saying that she would rather be mother to Elizabeth than queen. They had a great relationship.   
I tried to stay as true as possible to history but did take some liberties:))


	5. Signing the Death Warrant

Jane grimaced slightly as she looked at her blank page. What on earth did they all expect her to write in here? The only reason Anne hadn't gotten to see Elizabeth grow up was because Jane and Henry had killed her. Sure, Jane hadn't signed the death warrant herself, but she might as well have. 

Jane and Anne had previously had a discussion about this, with lots of tears and such. But Jane couldn't get rid of that small gnawing on her core from the guilt. Jane missed Edward, she missed him so much it hurt every night. But she had been sick, that's why she died.

Anne was beheaded. On Henry's orders. Because he wanted to marry Jane.

Jane hadn't really bonded with Elizabeth much for that reason. She didn't want a reminder of the woman that she felt so badly about. The small girl had been mostly kept in her own estates. But Jane did remember one particular time.

Court of King Henry VIII  
1537

Jane sat up as daintily as she possibly could with her eight-months pregnant belly and rose out of the bed. The fine silk felt nice on her hands as she sunk into it a little more.  
"You may leave us.".  
"Your Majesty," the servants said in unison, and bowed, walking out of the room. Jane turned to her small stepdaughter.  
"What is it you wanted to talk about, Elizabeth?". The just-turned-four year old blushed a deep red. Her stepmother rarely spoke to her.  
"Papa says that you're to have a baby, my queen. He says that he shall be my brother?". The toddler looked at Jane, her big dark eyes (so like hers) filled with curiosity. Jane tried to keep her heart from melting, but small Elizabeth was just too cute.

"Yes, Lizzie. I'm to have a baby soon. That's why I must stay in these rooms, in confinement.". The young child looked at her stepmother.  
"Well, I know that!". Jane looked at her in astonishment. How on earth did she-  
"Mama did this loads of times. But all my baby brothers died. Will this one die too?". Jane placed her hands on her stomach.  
"No, Elizabeth. This brother will come meet you very shortly. Your mother's babies died because-"  
"Because she was wicked. She did wicked things. I must take great care not to be like her. Papa says so.". Jane started. Did Henry really tell his four year old that? Hurriedly, she shook her head.  
"No dear. Your mommy's babies needed to not be born because it was God's will. I'm sure that she would not do wicked things, she wanted you to have a baby brother so very much, remember?".

"Yes..." the toddler said cautiously.  
"And now I'm having this baby brother because your mama couldn't. This baby brother loves you very much, Elizabeth.". Just as Jane said those words, the baby kicked, hard. She winced a bit and Elizabeth noticed.

"Queen Jane, are you alright?!" the toddler cried. Jane looked at the small child.  
"Why Elizabeth, I'm quite alright. Your baby brother is just kicking, that's all.". Anne Boleyn's daughter looked up at her solemnly.  
"That doesn't sound very nice. Why is he being so mean?". Jane chuckled.  
"No, dear. He's just announcing his presence. Would you like to feel?". The four-year-old nodded quickly, and so Jane gently placed her tiny hands onto her mound of a belly.

Before long, the (hopefully) prince kicked his mother square in the stomach, which was exactly where Lizzie had her hands. The former princess squealed in delight.  
"That's my brother!" she exclaimed.  
"Yes, darling. And you'll be a wonderful big sister. Your father was a delightful older brother to his smaller siblings, and I know you will be spectacular.".  
"I shall teach him all about Papa, and maybe even a bit about my puppy? I can help teach him his letters, too. I know almost all of them now, you know." the girl said proudly. Jane smiled at her stepdaughter.  
"Is that so? You'll have to show me.". 

Immediately, Elizabeth scampered over to the writing desk Jane never used, and pulled out a quill, ink, and paper. She dipped the quill in the ink, and carefully, in large, childish print, spelt out her name.  
"E-l-i-z-a-b-e-t-h. See Jane? I spelled it all!". Jane looked at the paper.   
"Well done, Elizabeth. You have such a pretty name, dear.".  
"Thank you. It's Papa's mama's name. Papa says she was a great queen, and she was always kind. It's also Mama's mama's name. I don't know anything about her. Mama said she died when she was a little girl. Now my mama's dead, so I can't ask her any more questions.". Jane immediately started guiltily. "What's the matter, your majesty? Is my new brother okay?".  
"He's fine, dear. I just-I need to rest for a bit now. Go see your governess, okay?".  
"Okay! Bye-bye Jane!" the toddler said, leaning up and kissing Jane's cheek. "Bye-bye brother!" she finished as she kissed Jane's bump carefully. 

As Elizabeth toddled out of the room, Jane closed her eyes. She needed to stop this guilt. It wasn't good for the baby. Besides, Lizzie had a new mother now. Her. 

This was what Jane was telling herself as she went to sleep, but deep down she knew that Elizabeth had a mama, and she wouldn't have needed a mother if it weren't for Jane. But she couldn't think those thoughts, so she went to sleep, thinking instead of the small girl who talked so like an adult. She had wriggled her way into Jane's heart.

Present Day  
Jane carefully dotted her i's and crossed her t's, and patted down the last corner of construction paper that kept sneaking out of its tight glue confinement. She looked over what she had written.

I got less time with Elizabeth than you did, Anne, but where you got baby Lizzie, crying toddler Lizzie, and teething Lizzie, I got inquisitive little girl Lizzie, curious learner Lizzie, and excited big sister Lizzie.

I didn't spend very much time with her because I felt too guilty, but we did have times where we were close. I learnt barely anything about her, but I'll tell you these few things I can remember.

She loved you and was always talking about you, even though she knew she wasn't allowed.

She always remembered that she wasn't just named for Henry's mother, she was named for yours as well.

She was always proud of her scholarly accomplishments, because she knew that you were so intelligent.

She never called me anything more than Queen Jane, or simply Jane. I didn't replace you. I maybe would have become Mama Jane if I had lived longer, but you were always Mama.

I'm sure that you always were.

-Jane

That wasn't too bad. It didn't brag, was short and sweet, and Jane's craft-inclined mind had created a beautiful page to write the words on. She had glued pressed flowers she used to pick with Elizabeth all over the page. It was hopefully, kind. She didn't want to give Anne any more reason to hate her.


	6. A Quiet Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne, tear-drenched and desolate, remembers the parts of Elizabeth's life that she was around for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I've loved the response to this story! enjoy, queens:) if you can catch any historical references that might be hidden to the average viewer, shoot me a review and let me know. I love sneaking things in that I've learnt throughout my research on Anne and the Tudor era, but remember, not everything will be historically accurate because this is, of course, historical fiction, and that means I get to put my own spin on it. sorry for the upcoming angst, anne needs a lot of hugs.

Anne couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried so much. Sure, she’d cried back in May on her ‘death-a-versary’, thoughts of french (god, french) swords and little sword boys (“boy, my sword” being the only words coursing through her brain for weeks), but she was alive, she was here with her fellow queens, she was as happy as she really could be. She’d cried on the anniversaries of her miscarriages, mourning the lost babies, the lost sons, but she couldn’t ever remember crying this much, not for a while. This was her baby, her Lizzie, her darling little girl, who she didn’t even know, not really.   
She knew a small, wrinkly baby with beautiful dark eyes, (“Your eyes,” Henry had said so lovingly. How was she to know that those same dark eyes would do her baby more harm than good?), who had grown into a somewhat less small, less wrinkly toddler with flaming red hair (her saving grace) who loved being with her parents, who loved learning and her tutors and her governess and everyone she knew. She knew a child with so much love, so much purity, so much innocence. But she didn’t really know her daughter at all. Not really. She only knew who her daughter had been, had acted, had loved.   
Sometimes, Anne just wanted to go back in time, find her younger self, steer her right off the ship back to England from France, ignoring her father, and force her to marry some random French baron or even a knight, she didn’t have any thoughts of arrogance anymore. But she never would have her beautiful baby Elizabeth, never would have had those few blissful years with Henry, where she was in love and happy. Looking at old portraits of her daughter, she just felt an overwhelming motherly urge. Elizabeth looked so hardened, even in her youngest portraits. She missed the small child who she’d cradled in her arms, the pretty little princess she had known.

\-------------------------1533-------------------------------------------  
Looking down at the small bundle one of her ladies (she wasn’t sure who, her vision was blinded with tears) had placed on her chest, Anne felt a small surge of disappointment, something she’d been feeling since the midwife had cried out the gender of her newborn.  
She was supposed to be a boy. Anne had promised, Henry had given up Catherine for this promised boy, this Prince of Wales they would have, their golden prince, future of England. She’d been the subject of gossip, of hate, of slander, every lady in the kingdom hated her, whispered behind her back, or to her face, they weren’t picky. They had called her a concubine, a whore, a slut, compared her to her sister, said she was not nearly as good as their beloved Dowager Princess, Queen as they called her. But she had promised a baby boy, the future King, and Henry had promised her in turn that the people would love her if she gave them this longed-for boy.  
And she hadn’t delivered, she thought as she glanced down at the bundle once more. The bundle twitched, the baby girl inside evidently making herself comfortable on her mother’s chest, the one familiar feeling in this scary new world, that sound of Anne’s heartbeat. Anne lifted her hand, feeling her heart pounding, and gently moved back the cloth covering her bundle’s small face.

She dropped her hand in shock, staring at this little bundle, this wonder, that she had created, she and Henry. An overwhelming maternal instinct swept over, and she began to weep for love, the feeling overtaking her. The little girl opened her dark eyes, Anne’s eyes, and blinked up at her mother. Anne smiled at her daughter, overjoyed, loving this baby with every fibre of her being, swearing to protect her always, swearing her undying devotion to this tiny human that had come out of her, this perfect mixture of herself and the man she loved. Every feeling of shame, of resentment towards this small innocent girl that she loved, went out the window, and she stared at her baby, drinking in the sweet baby smell, taking in every feature, every dimple, every wrinkle. This, right here, made her truly the most happy.

She was so enthralled in this new perfect person that she didn’t notice the general pomp and circumstance following Henry’s arrival anywhere until he sat down on the bed next to her, gasping in awe like she at their daughter. When she did notice, however, she looked up at him and her eyes began to fill with tears again. He pulled back a little, worried that he had done something to offend her.  
“Are you alright, Anne?” he asked, tickling the baby’s chin. Anne continued to cry.  
“My lord, I’m sorry.” she replied, bowing her head. He looked astonished.  
“Whatever for? This is a live child, a healthy girl. There is no reason a son should not follow. But for now, I’m going to enjoy my perfect princess. What should we name her?”. Henry continued to tickle the baby, and Anne looked slightly shocked.  
“I-I’m not sure, Henry. What would you have us name her?”  
“Hmm..” he mused, scratching his beard. “I think we should name her Elizabeth, for your mother and mine. A fine name for a Tudor princess, and I think it fits her, don’t you?”. Anne looked into the dark eyes of her princess, noticing a small red fuzz on top of the little head.  
“Yes, I do think Elizabeth suits her rather perfectly.” she replied, smiling as she watched Henry interact with Elizabeth from her continued resting spot on Anne’s chest. For a minute, she forgot that they were surrounded by servants and maids, that the hopes of a country were riding on the shoulders of this small girl for the moment, but more specifically on Anne’s currently empty womb, and just let herself be lost in the love she felt for her small little family. Henry looked twenty years younger interacting with Elizabeth, and she smiled at him. He responded with a huge grin.  
“She has your eyes, you know.” he informed her. She chuckled.  
“Yes, Henry, and I think she’ll have your hair.”. He grinned harder, if possible.   
“Yes, but your eyes. Your beautiful eyes.” he said, laughing gently. Anne just laid her head back on the pillows, happy, but exhausted. She was so exhilarated right now. This was what she and Henry had worked so hard for. This moment, right here, made up for the many years of waiting, of agonizing over a decision made so far away, of promises and stolen kisses. It had all led up to this, and she was the most content she had ever been. This was truly the perfect life.  
\--------------------------Present Day----------------------

Anne laughed almost bitterly as she pulled herself out of her remembrance. The perfect life? It had been then, to be sure. Things had gone downhill so quickly, however, that she wasn’t sure how much of it was real. Still, she had gotten her daughter, England had gotten her daughter. Anne wasn’t stupid, far from it. She knew that she and Henry had been in love, once upon a time, but love and hate are very similar emotions and the two of them were such strong personalities, they clashed constantly, even in their long courtship. She also knew she wasn’t innocent, far from it, she’d done many things she regretted, but to be beheaded? Ripped from her daughter’s life on false charges, pulled out of existence, for nothing?   
If Anne was being honest with herself, one of her biggest fears was that Elizabeth hadn’t needed her. Her daughter had ended up England’s greatest monarch, had ended up successful, the ruling head of a country, exactly what all those advisors had said could never happen. A small part of Anne, and she knew Catherine shared her sentiments on the matter, was slightly giddy about the fact that both Elizabeth and Mary had become queens in their own right. Henry had been so concerned with getting a son that he’d beheaded Anne and banished Catherine to wet, dank castles that killed her just the same as a swordsman’s swing. And yet, Edward, bless the child, had been just that. A child. He’d ruled through advisors, the powerful men ruling the country through this child who was basically a puppet, a figurehead. Their daughters, the gender Henry had not wanted, had both been strong queens. Yes, Mary had not had the most ideal lasting effect on the general public, but she had done exactly what Henry had thought she could never do. Elizabeth too.  
But she was still worried that Elizabeth hadn’t missed her, that her Kat had replaced her, that Lizzie barely even had known who she was. Anne knew what her reputation had been in court after she died, knew that Henry probably wouldn't have let his daughter find out about her mother, because she could be ‘swayed to the dark side’, or whatever crazy theory he had made up to make himself feel better about killing his wife.

She knew it was probably silly, but her insecurities hadn’t gone away since she had appeared here in the 21st century. She wished she could talk to Lizzie, tell her how much she loved her, tell her everything she had ever wanted to, drink in her child, hug her tight. God, she wished she could hug her! Anne just missed her so much, and that right there was why she hated Henry. She didn’t hate him for killing her, didn’t hate him for every raised voice, every temper tantrum he’d thrown towards her. She could get over that. She had a new life, new friends, new house, things were amazing.   
She did, however, hate him for severing her relationship to her daughter, for taking her one shining golden light away from her forever, for only letting her have two and a half years with her child! That girl was her life. Anne could feel the red-hot tears coming back, and she welcomed them, lying down on her pillows and pulling a picture frame close into her embrace. Inside the frame was one of her daughter’s portraits. She pressed a kiss to the paper-Elizabeth’s forehead and closed her eyes, letting the sleep overtake her. At least she could see her Lizzie in her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well? I hope you liked. by the way, the fact that both mary and elizabeth became queens in their own right, which was something henry thought could never happen (even though he was honestly quite right in the thoughts of the time) is one of my favourite historical things about this time. sorry again about making anne so sad, I love her, but she is obviously damaged.


	7. The Unbreakable Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine, trying to write a page for her former rival, loses herself for a moment in memories of her very own daughter, the girl who would eventually become Mary I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little catherine/mary fluff for you all. may get a little sad, I'm not sure, I'm not a very teary person. just your daily reminder that aragon had a daughter too, and they were incredibly close. hopefully this might change your perspective on the so-called "bloody mary". honestly, she got dealt a pretty crappy hand for a princess. keep your minds open.

Catherine closed her eyes, thinking desperately for something to write, something to put in this scrapbook. The other queens had all been excited to partake in this latest idea of Katherine’s, they’d even all stayed up later than normal the night before, trading stories about the small girl who had grown to be such a commanding presence. Catherine had simply sat on the couch, sat back, and listened to the stories. Truth was, she’d known Elizabeth even less than Anne had, she’d only known her as the Boleyn bastard, and only for a few short years, never actually meeting the girl. She’d always felt no hard feelings towards Elizabeth, children were innocents, and she knew that if Henry had put someone aside to marry her, she would have wanted the woman to wish no ill to Mary.  
Mary. Her beautiful, intelligent daughter, her pride and joy. The worst thing Henry had ever done to her was take away her daughter, remove them from each other. Mary had always been a frail child, sickly, but Catherine loved her more than anything in the world. She wondered constantly, if she had been more open to an amicable divorce, would Mary have been treated kindly? Would she have become the poor, hardened woman with no one to love her the way she so desperately craved? Catherine knew how history remembered her daughter, the moniker they’d saddled her with, the bloody fingerprints she’d left scattered all over the history books dealing with her reign. But she knew a much different daughter, an intelligent girl who laughed and loved freely, who was confident in the love of the people and of her parents. Catherine knew that Mary could have been an amazing ruler, could have had a long and golden reign as Elizabeth had.  
But she had grown up too much too fast, grown cold and calculated in an attempt to mask the sadness that clouded her person like the finest cloak made by tailors in Vienna. Catherine knew Elizabeth had suffered much the same fate, forced to grow old even younger than Mary had. The difference was, Elizabeth was too young to recognize the hate she had received initially, and so had been able to continue to be happy, albeit perhaps not quite as happy as she would have been with two loving parents. Mary had not been dealt that hand, instead being most definitely old enough to understand what was going on, and had chosen to direct that pain into her religious beliefs, becoming incredibly devoted, which had caused this horrible “Bloody Mary” title that history had given her.  
Catherine knew that she and Anne shared many things. Miscarriages(multiple), Henry’s love quickly turning poisonous, daughters when sons were desired so desperately, losing the love of the king to another woman. But the most important thing she knew they shared, was their love for their daughters. Catherine leant back in her chair, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her chin. She might just know what to put in that scrapbook.  
\------------------1520--------------------  
Queen Catherine of England, formerly Infanta Catalina of Spain and Aragon, sighed heavily as her ladies laced up her dress. The dress was beautiful, a deep green meant to show off Catherine’s red hair, and edged with gorgeous lace. That wasn’t the cause of her grievances. No, her main cause for worry was her husband, her Henry. He had just, in the past June, had an illegitimate child, his first acknowledged bastard, Henry Fitzroy, child of Catherine’s former lady Bessie Blount. Henry had taken this as proof he could sire a male child, and the pressure on Catherine to deliver a healthy male child had only tripled.  
She wasn’t foolish. She knew her days of childbearing were getting closer to the end, and she also knew that Henry was the victim of a very strong wandering eye, so different from her Sir Loyal Heart that she almost cried for days far gone, but she also knew that she was the Queen of England, former Infanta of Spain, and that her daughter, her one precious thing, was the true Princess of England, and could rule the country. Henry’s advisors might scoff, might scorn her for her thoughts of women rulers, but her mother had been one of those female rulers who men always scoffed at, and had been a powerful force.  
Catherine was ripped from her musings by a trumpet announcing the arrival of Princess Mary. Her four-year-old walked into the room surrounded by a large retinue of servants, but Catherine immediately forgot they were all there for a short moment. She hadn’t seen Mary in a few weeks, she’d been busy, Mary had been at her own household, court life had generally got in the way. A few weeks made enough of a difference that while Catherine did wave the servants away, she forgot all else other than her daughter, dropping to her knees and holding her arms out for Mary to run into, which she happily did, squealing as she hugged her mother tightly. The thoughts and prayers for a male heir were temporarily ripped from Catherine’s mind as she breathed in her daughter’s scent.  
“Mama! I’ve missed you!” Mary said, looking adoringly up at her mother. Catherine looked down at her beautiful little girl and had to hold back tears.  
“I’ve missed you too, mi niña hermosa.” she replied. Mary stepped out of her mother’s embrace and stepped back slightly, bobbing a short curtsey as she knew she was supposed to do. Catherine waved her daughter up immediately, taking in the deep green gown her daughter had on, one of the new gowns Catherine had commissioned for her short stay at court. Mary beamed brightly at her mother and moved to give her another hug.  
“Mamy, Lady Salisbury says we are to stay here with you and Papa at court for a time.” Mary informed her mother, a small bit of her natural excitedness showing on her small face. “Is this quite true?”. Catherine chucked softly at her daughter.  
“Yes, my love. Papa has decided that you shall stay here for a short while. He would like us both to get to know you better, and you’re four years old now, no longer a baby. You need to get to know England and its people.” she explained. Mary nodded solemnly as she took in what Catherine said. Then her face lit up.  
“Does this mean that I shall get to sit up at the high table with you and Papa? And play out in the gardens, and Papa can play too?” she asked, continuing to list off the many things she and her parents could do together.  
“Not always, mi amor. You know that your Papa is a very busy man, and that he can’t run around playing with his lovely pearl all day. I’m sure he will try to play with you as much as possible, but you will still have lessons, Mary. This is not a reprieve from your studies, do you understand?” she asked her daughter, tilting her chin upwards so she could look right into her eyes. Mary nodded gravely, her little face still sparkling with excitement. Catherine sighed.  
“Fine, my dear. You may go fetch your toys and I shall play with you for a short while. Go tell Lady Salisbury I wish to talk to her after dinner, as well.”. Mary grinned.  
“Si, Mama!” she exclaimed, turning on her heel and walking as fast as she knew was permitted out of Catherine’s chambers. Catherine smiled good-naturedly at her daughter’s use of Spanish and turned to enter her sitting room. She paused slightly as the knowledge of the necessary male heir again washed over her, but shook it off. Mary was what she was focused on right now. Mary could rule England, if needed. She was the light of Catherine’s life, who was to say she couldn’t be the light of the people’s life as well?  
\--------------------Present Day---------------------  
Sighing softly, Catherine read over what she’d written. 

Dear Anne,  
I know we never got along as well as we could have in our first life. We had conflicting interests, conflicting beliefs, and we were essentially working against each other. But I do know one thing we had in common, that fear of rejection for the simple crime of no male heir. Both of us eventually died for it, both of us never succeeded. But both of us gave the country a queen who did rule, who did do exactly what her father said she could never do. I’ll be first to admit that my Mary didn’t have the best reign, but I’m sure you know that I love her just the same, and miss her just the same. Your Elizabeth, on the other hand, was one of, if not the, most famous English monarchs ever, and for good reason. She had a beautiful reign, Anne, and you should be very proud of what she accomplished. She was your daughter through and through, from what I’ve read. My mother was also a female ruler, a feared and respected great lady, and if Elizabeth was anything like her, I would have greatly admired her and looked up to her as anyone should. I am still proud of my Mary, not proud of her actions that led her to be saddled with that horrid nickname, but I am proud of her devotion, of her determination, and of her willingness to be a strong leader, as I’m sure you are of Elizabeth also. I didn’t know Elizabeth, the most I heard of her was for the two years following her birth to my death, but I’m sure she was a wonderful child, and I’m sure she loved you most deeply. I will be the first to tell you, a mother and child have an unbreakable, unshakable bond, and nothing can take that away. She loved you, Anne. I know it’s a small comfort, but take solace in that knowledge nonetheless.  
Yours,  
Catherine

She hadn’t really decorated the page, just some simple, tasteful backgrounds and pressed flowers. But she hoped Anne knew how much heart had been poured into that letter, knew how much Catherine meant those words. A bond between mother and child was an incredibly strong thing, and Catherine used that knowledge to help herself, so she sincerely hoped it helped Anne as well. Catherine did not excuse Mary’s shortcomings, she did not blame anyone, not even Mary herself. Circumstances worked against her precious girl, and while there might be a few people who were large players in those circumstances, Catherine herself included, Catherine did not blame any one person. Circumstances had worked for and against Elizabeth too, the entirety of the girl’s life.  
Closing her eyes against another incoming headache, Catherine exhaled. Hopefully, this scrapbook would turn out well for Anne. But, although she would never outright ask for it, she wished with all her heart that a similar book might turn up in her hands around February 18.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I hope you liked. let me know what you think!


	8. Un Lecon de Francais

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kitty remembers a seven year old Elizabeth as she tries to fill her page. elizabeth proves to us all that she is anne's child and not h*nry's. kitty decides duolingo is not a valid method of learning french.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry it's taken me so long to update, it's ISU time at my school, which is even harder online.   
side note: tomorrow is Henry and Jane's wedding aniversary. idk if that's a happy thing or not, but it's a thing. they got married 484 years ago tomorrow, and if that seems a little weird to you, it is. anne boleyn was executed may 19, henry and jane got engaged one day later, and they got married eleven days after anne got her head chopped off. way to move on fast, henry.

Katherine tucked her legs up underneath her and relaxed into the soft chair, a small frown creasing her forehead. A bucket of scrapbooking supplies was perched on the coffee table in front of her, placed there by Jane a few hours previously. Katherine was especially partial to the pink glittery rhinestones, but she was stuck on what exactly to write on her page. She’d been sitting here for two hours now, but her brain was annoyingly empty of any ideas, any thoughts of Elizabeth gone from her mind.  
No, she was instead focusing on everything she hadn’t been to the girl. Katherine had been a child herself when she was queen, and the thought of being mother to Henry’s children had made her distinctly uncomfortable. They were so royal, so the opposite of playful young children. She could have dealt with small children who just wanted to run around and play silly games. These children, Elizabeth and Edward, were so adult even in their young age. Mary had been her age, really, and she definitely hadn’t liked Katherine very much at all.   
Perhaps if she had stuck around a bit longer, she could have become a sort of big sister to the younger ones and a confidante for Mary. Sadly, she hadn’t, and well, that wasn’t her fault. Katherine reached up to touch her neck softly, an old anxious habit she’d been working on removing. Feeling the rough scar circling the pale flesh brought her back to reality, and she sighed. Picking up a pen, she began twirling it between her fingers as she got lost in memories.  
\-------------------------1540---------------------------  
“I now pronounce you man and wife…”.  
The bishop’s voice continued, but Katherine did not hear any of it. Her whole being was focused on making sure she behaved right. She could feel the eyes of all the people around her, and had heard their whispers as she walked gracefully down the aisle. They murmured that she was far too young for such things, that the King was foolish and disgusting for marrying such a young girl, that she was really very pretty, such a shame she was trapped with the old king. Of course, these murmurs were so quiet she had to strain her ears to hear them, it was treasonous to speak ill of the king. Kitty, as she had been called before her marriage (no longer, that wasn’t the name of a Queen), privately agreed with them very much. Henry was quite old, and the wound on his leg stank like what she imagined a sewer would smell like. Still, he gave her pretty furs and jewels, and she got to be Queen, just like her cousin had. She shrugged off that thought, eager to not be reminded of the cousin she had once so admired.

Back when she was a very little girl, around the same age as the Lady Elizabeth was now, she remembered her lady step-grandmother (no doubt she would want to be called Lady Grandmother now Kitty was queen) telling her and the other Howard girls at Norfolk House that their most beloved cousin Anne was now Queen. They hadn’t really known who Anne was, there were so many Howard cousins that it was hard to keep things straight, and it wasn’t as though Anne was an uncommon name. But Lady Grandmother reminded them of this constantly, and Kitty had idolized her cousin for the three years Anne was queen. Privately, she believed in Anne’s innocence, for she had met her once and Anne seemed very nice, very in love, but such thoughts would not be good on her wedding day. Besides, it was time for the feast anyways, where she would have to befriend Henry’s three children, Prince Edward and the Ladys Mary and Elizabeth.

Edward would probably be easy enough to make friends with, he was only three after all, and Kitty liked little children. She didn’t think she’d be able to befriend Lady Mary, at least not yet. The lady was older than Kitty herself, and she seemed to be the complete opposite of Katherine. She also had been very close to her mother, the first Queen Catherine, and might not like another ‘mother’. Lady Elizabeth, however, was an enigma to Katherine. They were cousins, of course, so she could use that to talk to the girl. She wasn’t sure if Henry would like her reminding the girl of her mother though, so that might not be smart. She had heard that the girl was very intelligent, like her infamous mother, and enjoyed learning and books. That wasn’t Kitty’s forte, but she supposed she could listen to the girl talk about a book she had read or recite a poem in Latin. That would be easy enough.  
She was jolted from her remembrances by a slight tap on the bottom, causing her to jerk her head towards the perpetrator. Henry was grinning like a child, so she supposed it was him, granting him a teasing look.  
“My rose, I hope that the feast shall be to your liking,” Henry said to her. “I should like to present you to my children now.”. She nodded quickly, feeling slightly faint.  
“Her Grace, the King’s daughter, Lady Elizabeth Tudor!” called a man from the doorway. A small but sturdy girl with flaming red hair came gracefully into the room, dressed in a fine dress of green damask. She had a pretty little face and dark, beautiful eyes, which she kept downcast as she curtseyed to her father and her new stepmother. Once Henry bade her to rise, she came up every bit as gracefully, a smile on her face much older than her seven years.   
“My daughter!” Henry boomed cheerfully. “Come here, Elizabeth.”. Elizabeth nodded and walked closer to the royal dais, curtseying once more. “My dear, I would like to introduce you to your new stepmother, my beautiful rose, Queen Katherine.” he continued. Elizabeth looked at Kitty, who had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling that the girl was sizing her up with those dark eyes. Her fears were put to rest when the seven-year-old smiled brightly.  
“Your Majesty,” she said, bobbing a well-practised curtsey. “It gives me great pleasure to meet you.”. Kitty beamed back at her.  
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Elizabeth.” she recited back, patting herself on the back mentally when she realized she’d made it through the meeting without incident.   
The next two meetings went smoothly as well, pleasing Henry immensely. Mary’s smile hadn’t reached her eyes, but Kitty was sure the girl didn’t really hate her. Edward was a cute child, but he made her slightly uncomfortable. She didn’t really know how to deal with children, having before only admired them from afar.  
Elizabeth was most certainly going to be the easiest to get along with, so when they all sat down for the great feast Henry had prepared (did he ever stop eating?), she beckoned the small girl over and bade her to sit down next to her, calling her ‘cousin’ affectionately. The word had slipped out without Kitty realizing, but she was relieved when Henry merely smiled graciously and told Elizabeth that she was lucky to have such a kind stepmother. The girl had started when Kitty brought up their familial ties, but quickly regained control of herself, sitting down regally at the table. This was how Kitty found herself finally talking to her cousin, Henry mercifully distracted by someone on his other side.  
“Are you enjoying the food, Elizabeth?” she asked quietly. Elizabeth nodded brightly.  
“Yes, very much so, my lady stepmother. It is always a joy to see my father and siblings.” the girl replied, in a very adult way. Kitty giggled to see a child speaking so gravely, causing Elizabeth to blush slightly.  
“What is wrong, my lady stepmother?” she inquired. Kitty smiled, then realized she might have broken the ‘rules’, as they were, by giggling at the king’s daughter.  
“I am sorry, Elizabeth. I fear I do not know the rules of etiquette as well as I ought to.”. Elizabeth frowned slightly.  
“Has no one taught them to you?” she inquired.  
“Only slightly. I do not have the noble birth that you do, Elizabeth.” Kitty said softly.   
“Oh. Well, that can be solved.” the girl grinned. “I shall teach you the rules of etiquette, my cousin. I do have a question for you, Your Majesty.”.   
“Yes, Elizabeth?”. Anne Boleyn’s daughter leaned closely in towards Katherine Howard, her red hair, the saving grace of the dead queen, swinging forward. She lowered her voice to speak in confidence.  
“How-how do you know my lady mother?” she whispered. Katherine drew in a breath quickly. How much was she to say to the girl? What would offend Henry? Noticing the look of anxiety on her face, Elizabeth placed a small hand on hers. “Do not worry, Katherine. I will not tell my father. I just wish to know my mother.”. The heart-shaped face looked so forlorn that Kitty grasped the small hand tightly.   
“I did not know her very well, I’m afraid.” she said, taking a deep breath to continue. “I was only a little girl at my step-grandmother’s household when your mother became queen, only around your age. My grandmother told us all, for we were all kin of your mother, that our beautiful cousin Anne Boleyn had become the Queen, and we should be proud of our lineage. I must admit I somewhat idolized your mother, in a way. I met her once, not long after you were born, and though I did not speak to her, I was in awe of her ability to command a room. She had great talent at dancing and music, as you do, my lady. I thought her the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. You have her eyes, you know.”. Elizabeth smiled sadly.  
“I’ve been told, but of course I take after my father, His Majesty. His skill at dance and music was once unmatched.” she replied quickly. Kitty nodded just as sadly back at her. Elizabeth was not stupid. The girl must have heard the rumours of her parentage and had been taught to emphasize her connection to her father, rather than the mother thought to be a demon. Elizabeth leaned in again, eyes sparkling slightly with mischief.  
“I take a special pride in learning my French, Your Majesty.” she whispered. Kitty gave her a quick grin, knowing exactly what she meant. She thought she would be able to get along well with this girl after all. They would need to schedule an etiquette lesson soon, and perhaps it was time for Kitty to learn French.

\---------------Present Day------------------------  
Kitty hadn’t learnt any French. She had never learnt much in the way of etiquette, either. She supposed that had been part of her undoing, the loose upbringing coming back to give a final bite (like it hadn’t done enough already). No one had ever told her how a queen was expected to behave, until Elizabeth came along with her sharp, careful intelligence and wit. After having lived with Anne, Kitty could most definitely see that that was an inherited trait. She thought Elizabeth could have been a very mischievous child as well, and perhaps might have been if her young life was not such a wild ride. Kitty missed Elizabeth, missed cute little Edward, and even missed Mary, who she had never really even became good acquaintances with. Sighing, she picked the pen back up and began to write in her bubbly, loopy script.

Dear Anne,  
I’d like you to know that I idolized you long ago. I still do, somewhat, but back then, you were this shining light of beauty and life that acted like a beacon for me. I always did think you were innocent. And Elizabeth did too. I know that.   
She was a very, very intelligent girl, and I see her every time you crack a joke or actually show your smart side. Henry wishes he was half as smart as the two of you. Elizabeth once offered to give me etiquette lessons with no prompting, she just realized that I needed them. I wish that I had gotten the chance to learn more, but the simple fact she offered, not in an arrogant way or a rude way, just kindly, shows that she had a big heart. I’m almost certain she didn’t get that from her father. She was beautiful, and her eyes were just like yours.   
I feel badly that I wasn’t much in the way of mother to Elizabeth or Edward, but I realize that I was only around ten years older than Elizabeth. I did hope to become a sort of older sister or friend, but I guess we all know how that turned out.  
Just know that when I first met Elizabeth, she asked me about you. I didn’t prompt her or ask for it. She really, truly wanted to know you. And I believe that she knew you, because she was part of you.  
I love you, Anne.  
-xoxo Kitty

As she placed the pen down, Kitty smiled sadly, recalling red hair, beautiful dark eyes, and a childish voice speaking such adult words. Perhaps she should ask Anne to give her some French lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that's it then. there's probably two or three more chapters left in this story:)


	9. A Box of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Cathy reflects on the time she spent with Elizabeth, but specifically who they talked about, and secrets from Hever are unearthed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, part of this is based on the fact that in a family portrait commisioned for henry by catherine parr, elizabeth is wearing a necklace thought to be anne's. just thought I'd let you know, because you might be a bit confused without that information.
> 
> we're so close to the end guys! I'm going to try to finish this by september 7, as that's elizabeth's real birthday. thanks for all the support.

Cathy glared at the sparkly pen Jane had given her. It seemed to be mocking her with its very existence, smirking at the woman known to her friends as an avid writer, who was having trouble making a scrapbook page about a young girl she had once known. She was more than just a girl! She wanted to scream that at the pen, but Kitty was in her room nearby, and Cathy didn’t want to disturb the teen. Sighing, she twirled the damn thing between her fingers, thinking deeply about the best way to go about this.

Things had been smoothed over with Anne about Elizabeth, but she still felt like she was walking on eggshells whenever she brought up the girl whose mother still thought of her as a tiny toddler. There were so many sore subjects to do with Catherine Parr and Elizabeth Tudor. Thomas was the biggest one, a sore subject with Anne as well as Jane, who felt responsible for her brother’s actions. Cathy avoided all mentions of him whenever around the two. Elizabeth’s education was another, for Cathy had helped provide her an education that Anne had dreamt of her daughter receiving, yet she could not be the one to give it to her. Yet another still was the amount of time Cathy had been given with Elizabeth, and not the infant who could not talk or play, the young girl and, eventually, young woman she had been. Anne had missed that. Cathy always felt guilty over this, although both she and Anne knew this had nothing to do with either of them, simply because it was Henry who had driven mother and daughter apart with the final blow of death. 

Cathy knew that to make this scrapbook to the best of her ability without offending Anne, she needed to talk about something that had connected Elizabeth and her mother. Searching her brain for a good story to tell (she was a writer, after all, she could write the story down as her page), she pressed the damned sparkly pen to paper and began to write.

\-----------Unknown date, probably 1544, Tudor Court-------------------  
“Queen Catherine! If you please, my son-”  
“Your Majesty, could you sign this-”  
“My mother, she’s sick, Your Majesty-”

These shouts followed Queen Catherine Parr, consort to Henry VIII, as she walked down the hallway of the current royal residence, but she was intent on a destination. Her ladies followed behind her, passing out small bags of alms to the peasants who were waiting for her outside the walls. Catherine turned a corner swiftly, nearly running into a page boy, but she quickly apologized and continued along her path. Finally, she reached the room she wanted, and entered it without a pause, her poor ladies struggling to keep up.

The young girl sitting inside the room was carefully studying her needlework, but she paused as Catherine came into the room, standing up to bob a short curtsey.  
“Stepmother,” Lady Elizabeth Tudor said respectfully. Catherine smiled softly.  
“Elizabeth. Ladies, leave us. I have a matter to discuss with Her Grace alone.”. All the ladies in the room, including Elizabeth’s governess, Kat Ashley, curtseyed and left the room, leaving the two alone. The eleven year old immediately dropped her calm exterior, revealing a slightly less calm (it was Elizabeth, after all) face.  
“What’s going on, Catherine? Is it His Majesty? Is he-”  
“Your father is fine, Elizabeth. His leg is having a good day, and he’s off with some friends. I’ve come here to talk to you.”  
“Oh,” she said, sitting up slightly straighter. “What do you wish to discuss? If it’s about my marriage, you know I don’t wish to-”. Catherine cut her off.  
“It’s about the painting I had commissioned for your father, the family portrait you posed for. I noticed something odd, and I wished to speak to you about it.”.  
Elizabeth’s body language immediately shifted. Suddenly, she looked three years old again, caught in a lie. Catherine could almost imagine her looking like that, back when the first Queen Anne had been around. Except Princess Elizabeth, she imagined, would have looked worried about the lie, but there would have been a mischievous air to the whole thing. Back then, the child had been so innocent, she would have never imagined that her beloved mother would reprimand her. Lady Elizabeth looked terrified, like if her wrongdoings were discovered, her body would join her mother’s, uncle’s and stepmother’s in that bloody chapel.   
“You are not in trouble, Elizabeth.” Catherine said softly, watching the girl relax slightly. “I just wish to speak to you, that’s all.”.  
Elizabeth nodded quickly.   
“About what?” she asked.  
“Don’t play dumb with me, El. Where did you get the necklace?”  
She clammed up immediately.   
“I-I got it from Hever, when I was visiting Lady Anne. It was tucked away behind a bed in Mama’s old bedroom. I thought maybe she left it for me to find, I know it’s stupid, but-”  
“It’s not stupid, Elizabeth. I was nineteen when my mother passed away, and I still miss her. I imagine that you miss your mother, and that’s perfectly normal.”  
“His Majesty doesn’t think I should. He doesn’t talk about her, but I know I’m not supposed to think about her, or talk about her, or even do anything that reminds him of her. I don’t know what reminds him of her! How am I supposed to get rid of something I cannot control?”  
Catherine nodded slowly.   
“Go fetch the necklace, please, Elizabeth. And grab a looking glass, while you’re at it.”  
Elizabeth walked over to her vanity, picking up a large box and a small mirror, then came back over to her stepmother. She sat down carefully, then looked Catherine right in the eyes.  
“I’ve only ever shown Kat this. Every time I-every time I go to Hever, I try to find something that I know was Mama’s. Or Uncle George’s. Something I know she could have touched. Then I put it in this box. I keep the key on this necklace,” she continued, pulling a dainty chain out from the top of her dress, “and now I have a whole collection of Mama’s things. It’s not a lot, but it makes me feel closer to her.”. And with that, she stuck the key into the keyhole and carefully opened the box.   
Elizabeth was correct in that there wasn’t much in the box, but Catherine was struck by how many things the girl had been able to recover. It was a known fact that Henry had gotten rid of anything he possibly could to remind him of Anne Boleyn, including his affection for and the time he spent with her daughter. Catherine had some of her jewels, but those were part of the official jewels that Henry had given her when they had been married. She’d assumed Elizabeth would have only the necklace, and possibly a few trinkets her mother had given her personally throughout the duration of their short time together.  
But the box held a surprising number of small bits and pieces. Catherine could see the A necklace from the painting, but she also could see a French hood, a small ink pot, even a tiny cap of the type you’d make for a baby. Elizabeth looked at the objects with such reverence and wonder it made Catherine’s heart ache for the child. She reached out slowly, and touched Elizabeth’s mother’s hood, marvelling slightly at how real it felt. She’d been expecting-well, she didn’t know what she’d expected. This all made Anne Boleyn feel so real.   
Catherine knew she’d been real, obviously. The living proof was sitting three feet away from her, after all. But Anne Boleyn had seemed like a tall tale, something more experienced courtiers liked to tell the young ones to frighten them into behaving properly. These objects shattered the glass they’d all been watching behind.  
Elizabeth was beginning to tear up now, stroking the baby cap with gentle fingers as she softly cried. Catherine grabbed her other hand carefully, rubbing the back of it with her own fingers. The young girl turned to look at her stepmother.  
“I’m sorry, Catherine. I just miss her.”. Catherine nodded. Reaching into the box with care, she pulled out the necklace and fastened it around her stepdaughter’s neck. Adjusting it to hang centered, she picked up the French hood and put that on Elizabeth as well. Gesturing for the girl to pick up the looking glass, she fixed the veil.  
“Look at yourself, El. I know you know which parts of you come from your father, and I know you aren’t allowed to discuss the similarities to your mother. But I want you to look at the young lady you see in that mirror. I can see things in you that look like Anne. Can you?”  
“I-I know I have her eyes. The king doesn’t like to look at my eyes because of her.”  
“That’s definitely true. I think you have her nose as well.”  
“I guess,” she murmured, stroking it carefully. “Maybe I have her face shape? From what I remember, anyways.”  
“Then that’s probably right.” Catherine replied. “Elizabeth, you shouldn’t feel ashamed about your mother. Maybe you can’t bring her up with your father. But I wasn’t old enough to have been involved in anything with her. You may always feel free to discuss her with me. I promise I won’t tell.”  
“Really? Thank you, Catherine!” she cried. Seeming to remember herself, she inclined her head just like she’d been instructed since a young age. “I mean, thank you, Your Majesty.”  
“Of course, Lady Elizabeth.” Catherine replied, chuckling slightly. “You may tell me anything.”.  
She wasn’t expecting the small body to hit her with such force, but Elizabeth flung herself at her stepmother so quickly that Catherine nearly fell off her stool. Catching herself, she pulled the girl close to her, stroking the soft red hair that was her mother’s saving grace. As she breathed in the sweet smell of her stepdaughter, Catherine tilted her head up towards the sky.  
Don’t worry, Anne, she thought to herself, praying the other woman could hear her from wherever she was. Anne, she’s safe, she’s happy, and I will protect her to the ends of the earth.   
Turning her attention back to the young girl in her arms, she hugged Elizabeth tightly. Things could go sour so quickly when you were the wife of this man, but at least she had gotten some good things out of it.  
——————Present Day———  
Capping the stupid pen, Cathy surveyed her work with a critical eye. Hopefully, Anne would enjoy it. She’d pinned a list of all the things she could remember El having in the box, not just from that time, but the many others she had shown up at her stepmother’s chambers, one or two ladies in tow to provide privacy, a distraught look on her face.   
Praying that Anne would enjoy the gift, Cathy pasted the page into the book. It was done now, as she’d been the last one to complete their section. She could see bits and pieces of the others’ contributions, some pressed flowers, a corner of red paper, and now, a small sliver of silver gel pen. Standing up, Cathy grabbed the book. Time to go finish this project. They didn’t have much time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters, guys! love you all:)
> 
> thanks to my best friend for continuing to be my soundboard for all ideas. I couldn't write this stuff without you, and if I did, it'd be a lot worse. I love you so much<3


	10. Finishing Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group of queens puts the finishing touches on the present. Elizabeth's birthday is tomorrow, and a certain queen makes a gift Anne is sure to treasure forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this is the second-last chapter! I wrote it on my phone at work so I apologize if it's a little fiddly grammar-wise. if you're interested in reading more about anne and elizabeth's relationship, honestly just give it a quick search on google! I wrote an essay in english this year about the differences between anne and elizabeth's relationship and catherine and mary's, so I know there's lots to find.
> 
> enjoy:) leave a review and a kudos if you're feeling generous, and dm me @gleefully_musical on instagram if you ever need to talk! I also have a tudor tiktok now, so check out @thetudortimes

The others were all sitting in the kitchen when Cathy came downstairs, save Anne, who was still in her room. Kitty and Anna were trying (and failing) to recreate the Dirty Dancing lift while Jane filmed. Aragon was sipping coffee from her favourite mug, trying not to laugh. They turned to look at the sixth queen as she entered the room.  
“Oof!” Kitty cried out. Anna had dropped her.  
“Sorry, Kit-Kat.” she said apologetically, standing up and wiping her hands on her cow print pyjama shorts. “Cathy’s here, I got distracted.”. The youngest queen shot up immediately, not having noticed Cathy’s entrance.   
“Cathy!” she exclaimed. “Have you finished, then?”  
“Um, yeah. Finished it about five minutes ago.”. Jane stood up, placing her phone down on the counter.  
“Catherine Parr! Did you write through the night again? You know that’s not healthy!”she chastised. Cathy looked slightly apologetic.  
“Sorry, Jane.” she murmured. Aragon stood up next, walking over to her goddaughter and giving her a one-armed hug, careful not to spill any coffee on her.  
“The important thing is that you’re done, Cathy. Are you happy with what you’ve written?”  
“I am.” Cathy replied. “I wrote through the night because I got lost in memories.”.  
The others all murmured assent, for they’d all done the same thing.  
“Well, let’s see it, then!” Cleves half-shouted. Jane shushed her, pointing upstairs to Anne’s room. “Sorry, Jane. May we please see the book, Cathy?”she continued in a quieter tone.  
Cathy held the book out to Kitty, who excitedly flipped through the pages, small bits of glitter flying out and landing on her clothes. The pieces joined the already large collection of glitter that was always on Kitty’s clothing, the girl having a passion for arts and crafts. Kitty didn’t read any of the pages, feeling that they were special and private, only for Anne to read. However, she thought the book altogether looked very well done, and so she carefully closed it again, a poof of glitter (what else?) flying out and landing on Jane’s nose.   
“I think it looks wonderful!” Kitty exclaimed. “Anne’s going to love it!”  
“Yes, I think she will.” Aragon replied, studying the cover scrutinizingly.   
“I’ve made a small collection of places and things that proved Elizabeth still thought about and admired her mother,” Anna said sheepishly, scratching her head. “I was thinking we could add it in the back of the book?” she asked. The others nodded.  
“That’s a wonderful idea, Anna!” Jane said, reaching out to give the fourth queen a hug. “It’s very thoughtful.”  
“Yeah, I mean, a lot of people think Lizzie never thought about Anne because they don’t read about places where she mentioned her and stuff. But I did some research, and I found a lot of websites that had multiple facts and lots of instances that show that she did think about her. Obviously, we all know she did as a child, but this is from her adult years, which none of us were around for. I just thought it might show Anne exactly how much her daughter still loved her.”  
“I think that’s lovely, Anna.” Aragon replied. “I mean, I know my Mary still loved me, because that’s one of the only positive things people say about her,” she said, adding a bit of a scowl to the last part, “but I think Anne is very insecure abou that, so it’s a great idea.”  
Anna shrugged, unused to all the positive attention. “It wasn’t a big deal.”.  
Kitty beamed at her, giving her a big hug.  
“Shall we finish things up, then?” Cathy asked. “I mean, it’s El’s birthday tomorrow, and I was thinking I would maybe go buy something from the shop for Anne. I thought maybe flowers would be nice too. She did push a whole human out of her, Elizabeth didn’t really do anything.”.  
“That’s a great idea!” Kitty said, grinning widely. “We can get her flowers and chocolates. Anne loves chocolates!”  
The others all agreed, and soon they had divided up the activities between them. Kitty and Jane would go pick flowers, because Jane had an eye for that sort of thing, and Kitty thought she did. She mostly killed plants right away, but no one had the heart to tell her that the plants she carefully cared for were swapped out by Jane every week or so when they reached their end.  
Cathy and Anna would go to the store and get groceries, picking up some chocolates for Anne and maybe a book or something.  
Aragon said she would stay at the house, just in case Anne needed anything. Having given birth to an unwanted daughter herself, she understood what Anne was going through the best of anyone.  
Kitty and Jane left right after breakfast, citing the need to drive to a field so they could get “fresh flowers”, so it was just Aragon, Cleves, and Parr left in the house. Anne didn’t count, as she hadn’t left her room in days.  
Right before Cleves and Cathy headed out, as they were getting in the car, they were stopped by a shout.  
“Cathy! Anna! Wait!”  
It was Aragon, running out of the house with a piece of paper rolled up in her hand. She made it to Cathy and bent over, huffing slightly. Unrolling the paper, she handed it to her goddaughter.  
“I know they can turn almost anything into a canvas for Anne to put on her wall, and I thought maybe, instead of a book, you guys could get this done for her.”  
The painting was beautiful. Aragon had taken up art classes shortly after they arrived in the present day, citing the need to unwind (and the need to get away from Anne), but over time, she’d become quite good. No, scratch that. She wasn’t good, she was amazing.  
The painting, done in painstaking detail, depicted Anne, as she had been in 1535, before everything went down. She was in a beautiful blue dress, her hair partially covered by the French hood she had so favoured. Her face was happier than any of them had seen in a long time, and, Cathy thought to herself, she looked carefree. She imagined Anne had probably never looked that carefree since she had been a very young girl, but the image was nice to see.  
She was holding two tiny hands, who were clenching her fingers tightly, even in the painting. Elizabeth was painted as a tiny toddler, maybe one and a half. Her face was partially screwed up in concentration, but her small head was tilted up at her mother, who she was staring at with wide-eyed admiration. Toddler Elizabeth was dressed in a pale green gown in the same style as her mother’s, and one foot was up like she was ready to take a step.   
Anne would adore this painting. Cathy already did, and it wasn’t even for her! It was amazing how well Aragon had drawn Elizabeth, even though she’d never known her in person. The tiny girl in the painting looked just like the young girl Cathy had known, and from the way Anna was tearing up, she looked just like the slightly younger one she’d known.  
As if reading their minds, Aragon blushed slightly. “Jane helped me with how Elizabeth should look. She looked enough like Henry and Anne that it wasn’t really a problem, and enough like my Mary that I could mostly picture her in my mind, but Jane helped me get her just right. She did know her then, after all.”.  
Cathy gingerly placed the painting in the car. “This is amazing, Catalina.”  
“So, so good!” Anna agreed, nodding emphatically.  
“We’ll definitely get it made. Anne will love it.” she said, looking into her godmother’s eyes with a careful, yet steady glance, holding it long enough Catalina got her meaning.   
Thank you. You’ll get one too. I promise.

“Good, thank you, ladies. I’ll stay here and make sure Anne doesn’t do anything crazy.” Aragon said, smiling sadly up at the window with the curtains drawn all the way shut.  
They got into the car, shutting the doors and turning the radio up. Pulling out of the driveway, Cathy could see Aragon wipe away a tear discreetly, then keep waving at them as if nothing had happened. She knew right then and there that the week of February 18, she’d be heading to the store to purchase another scrapbooking kit.

They all returned right before dinner, Kitty and Jane finally coming home with a much larger basket of flowers than was needed. Cathy and Anna had been home for hours, and when the last two queens entered the house, the other three were curled up on the couch. Moana was on the television, bowls of popcorn in each woman’s arms. When Kitty came into the room, she cried in delight and took the bowl handed to her, plopping down next to Aragon and wrapping herself around her. Jane smiled and continued through to the kitchen, where she proceeded to put away all the flowers and things they’d collected for Anne. She began to cry slightly when she saw the canvas print, but took it over the gift wrap closet and wrapped it up as gently and perfectly as she could.   
Everything was ready. Now all they had to do was give it to Anne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, someone who's really good at art, want to do the painting aragon made? I would pay for it if you could do it digitally, because it would 100% make my day.
> 
> thanks for reading, guys! next chapter is the big reveal, and I will be posting it on September 7, which is Elizabeth's real birthday. I thought it seemed fitting. enjoy your lives!
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to my next-door neighbour who turned one today. I babysit her and she's the cutest thing ever, so jordan, that was for you:)


	11. The Project is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne finally receives what everyone has been working towards for multiple days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELIZABETH! 487 years, wow.
> 
> this is it, guys. this is the last chapter. thank you all so much for coming with me on this incredible journey. when I was writing the last chapter, I felt pretty sad, because this story is now a part of me. I'm really proud of it, and I'm so glad I've gotten such an incredible response.
> 
> do something today to piss henry viii off, because his wife pushed a whole child out of her 487 years ago today, and he really didn't show enough gratitude. 
> 
> love you all!

On the morning of September 7, Anne woke up with an aching low in her stomach. Shoving aside the heaps of tissues littering her bedspread, she climbed out of bed and went over to her bookshelf. Moving aside a copy of Exit, Pursued by a Bear, she pulled out the books that she kept hidden at the back of the shelf. Selecting her favourite, a well-worn, dog-eared copy of “The Life of Elizabeth 1” by Alison Weir, she opened it, settled back down on her bed, and began to read. She was only partially oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks and the hollow feeling in her heart, but pretended she didn’t notice and continued to read anyways.

Downstairs, things were just as chaotic as normal, if not much more so. Jane and Aragon were frantically trying to finish the breakfast they were making to bring up to Anne, working around Kitty. She was wrapping the scrapbook, having ignored Jane’s help and instead wrapping it in her favorite sparkly pink paper. Cathy watched slightly anxiously, multitasking, as she was also arranging the flowers and chocolates. Cleves was cleaning the dishes from their breakfast, complaining loudly as she did so that she had gotten the worst job.   
Jane swerved around Kitty, a pan of sausages in her hands, trying to find Anne’s favourite plate. Aragon poured orange juice into a green cup. Cleves put the last dish on the drying rack, and Cathy placed the box of chocolates on the tray. Just as Kitty finished the last bow, Jane found the plate and piled the food onto it. For better or for worse, they were ready.  
Anne was still reading the book when she heard footsteps on the stairs outside her room. Sighing, she put it down on her bedside table and hastily moved aside the tissues she’d managed to collect once again on her bed, throwing them into the bin. When the door opened, she sighed with relief. It was only Kitty, who seemed to be very excited about something and was doing a very bad job of hiding it.  
“Hi Anne…” the younger Howard cousin said, shifting back and forth between her feet nervously. Anne smiled at her cousin, trying to show her that it was okay to come talk to her.  
“Hey, Kit-Kat. What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Kitty hid her face in her hands, trying to hide her excitement, but Anne mistook it for sadness. Reaching her arms out towards Katherine, she swept her into a big hug. Rather than curing the sadness Kitty actually didn’t have, Anne felt a large knot of tension leave her body, and she instantly relaxed. Sometimes all she needed was a Kitty hug to start feeling better.  
Anne pulled away first, as Kitty had felt how her cousin reacted and stayed in the hug, knowing that it was helping. The older queen turned over to her bed and grabbed a bookmark, carefully inserting it in her current place.  
“I was wondering if you’d maybe come downstairs with me? It’s breakfast time, and I worry about you when you don’t eat…” Kitty trailed off, looking at Anne, praying that she had fulfilled the mission Jane had given her, (“She’ll be most likely to come with you”, Jane had told her while shoving her towards the stairs). Anne looked contemplative for a second, and then nodded her assent.  
“Sure, just let me get dressed first.” she agreed. Evidently, Anne had decided to pretend that this day didn’t exist, because she wouldn’t talk about it, and Kitty didn’t think she’d ever gotten dressed before breakfast unless Jane bribed her. She sat down on the bed and waited as her cousin put on tight jeans and a green top, brushed out her hair and put it up, and finally put on more makeup than she’d ever worn for just the others before.  
Eventually, Anne was ready, and Kitty carefully led her downstairs, making sure to knock over the large potted plant in the hallway that she’d agreed would be the signal they were coming. Anne helped her clean it up, and then they continued along their way. When they should have just stopped at the kitchen, where they all normally ate breakfast, Kitty took Anne’s arm and continued to pull her through to the living room.  
“Kitty, why aren’t we-”  
Anne stopped as soon as they were inside the room.   
The four other queens were all on the couches, sitting comfortably, but when Anne and Kitty walked in, they all tensed slightly. The green beanbag chair Anne had found their first week in this century was placed in the middle of the room, their breakfast tray Kitty had bought to serve them all breakfast in bed on the anniversary of their marriages to Henry placed next to it. The matching pink beanbag Anne had forced Kitty to get was empty, so Kitty gently guided Anne to the green one and sat down on her own.   
“What is this?” Anne asked, her voice breaking slightly as she set the breakfast tray on her lap.   
“Just eat, love.” Jane said softly. “We’ll explain once you’ve finished. Don’t think I haven’t noticed my food trays have been half-finished when I pick them up.”. Anne nodded slowly, raising a fork of eggs to her mouth.  
Breakfast passed far too quickly and far too slowly at the same time. They all tried to make polite conversation, but Anne was too confused to properly respond, and everyone else was too excited to really talk. When Anne finally finished, Kitty began to bounce nervously. Cleves, never one to be anxious about anything, looked like she was going to swallow her tongue. Cathy and Jane were holding hands, both of them looking especially pale. Anne sat back, folding her hands in her lap.  
“Alright, what’s going on?” Anne finally asked. Jane looked at Aragon, who sighed and leant forward.  
“Anne, on this day in 1533, I was at Buckden Palace, praying with all my might that you wouldn’t do what I had never done, give Henry a healthy son. I will admit, I felt a small victory at the fact that you had a daughter. But I also felt sympathy for you, because knowing Henry as I did, I knew he wouldn’t respond kindly to what he would see as an insult. I hadn’t seen my daughter, my Mary, in what felt like forever. I knew how it was to bear Henry a daughter, and I knew he had no patience left, like he did for me at the beginning.   
Knowing you now, I know you miss your Elizabeth just as much as I miss Mary. Today is your baby girl’s birthday, Anne, and we wanted to do something special for you. This will be a hard day, and you will miss her forever, but we hoped we could ease some of the pain by sharing what we remember with you. This is for you, Anne.”. As she finished her speech, tears were already filling Anne’s eyes, and Jane handed her the two wrapped presents, tapping the one containing the book and mouthing to her to open it first.   
Usually, Anne tore into presents with reckless abandon, but today she carefully edged the tape away from the seams, with only a small remark to Kitty about the sparkly paper. She unfolded the paper, revealing the scrapbook inside. Jane had written on the front cover, in her swoopy, pinterest-style writing, “Project Lizzie”. They’d glued a bunch of different pictures of Elizabeth all over the cover as well, and when Anne caught sight of it, she stifled a sob.  
“What-what is this?” she asked, her voice breaking as she opened the book.  
“We’ve all made a section about our time with Elizabeth and how much she loved you, Anne. You don’t need to read it now, but that’s what it is.” Parr explained, her voice not much louder than a whisper as she tried to keep it steady. Anne nodded, but continued to carefully flip through it, not reading, just scanning the pages. She ran her fingers over the pressed flowers from Jane’s page, dropped a load of glitter on her lap from Kitty’s, and when she had finished scanning through, looked up at them all with a large smile. Tears were pouring down her cheeks, but none of them had seen her that happy in a long time.  
“Thank you,” she whispered, “it’s beautiful.”.  
Anne flicked through the pages of the scrapbook one more time, beaming widely, yet somehow also the saddest smile they’d ever seen. They all gave her a few more minutes to look through the book, although all she was doing was staring at the pictures on the cover, running her fingers over the red hair gently. Anne was imagining that the painted red hair was the same hair she’d once ran her fingers through, real and soft. She began to tear up more heavily, and Jane carefully pulled the book away so as not to damage any pages (although she had laminated it, knowing there probably would be tear tracks covering the pages at some point) and handed Anne a kleenex in exchange.  
Once Anne had calmed down a bit, Cleves picked up the second gift from its position on the floor and handed it to her. Anne tilted her head slightly in confusion, but once again carefully and delicately unwrapped the paper from the canvas. It was face-down, so she turned the thing over and held it up. And then stopped.  
“How-who-what-” she tried to ask, but was stopped by tears. Kitty moved over to her and placed a gentle hand on her back.   
“Catalina painted that for you, Anne. Then Anna and Cathy went to the photo store and they made it into a canvas. We thought you’d like to put it on your wall.” she explained. Anne smiled at Aragon.  
“Thank you, Catalina. But- I know how you’d know what I looked like-but how did you get Lizzie? It looks-that looks just like her. Just like she used to look when she was little.”  
“Jane helped me. She knew how Elizabeth would have looked, because she was your lady, so I asked her to give me a physical description. It wasn’t hard, the child looked enough like you and Henry I could piece it together, and enough like my Mary that I could get the youth of her-”.  
Anne cut her off by launching herself at Aragon, pulling her into a tight hug and murmuring thank-yous into her hair. Aragon hugged back just as tightly. When Anne pulled away, she went to each of the others and gave them a hug as well, ending at Kitty, who she just basically collapsed on top of on the beanbag.  
“Do you think we could watch a movie today?” Anne asked shyly. The others nodded their assent.  
“What movie, love?” Jane said. Anne went over to her bag she used to go to the library and pulled out two dvds, placing them on the coffee table.  
“Elizabeth, and Elizabeth: The Golden Age.” Aragon read aloud. “Of course we can watch those, Anne. Go ahead and pop the first one in.”  
And so the six queens ended up piled on top of each other on one couch, watching movies all day about the little girl so many of them had loved. The little girl’s mother fell asleep halfway through the fifth movie, but the others decided not to wake her, for they doubted she’d slept in a week. Eventually, she woke up again, but not in the living room.  
She was in her own bed, in pajamas, and when she opened her eyes, they were met with a beautiful canvas painting of her and her little daughter, placed on her wall. She stared at the painting for some time, drinking in every little detail of the baby who had long since grown up.  
Rolling over to her bedside table, the mother of the Virgin Queen picked up the scrapbook her friends had made for her and picked it up, opening it to the first page and beginning to read.  
That was how Anne Boleyn, wife of Henry VIII, the first queen to be executed in England, the infamous seductress, or the innocent victim, but most importantly, the mother of Elizabeth I, one of the best monarchs Europe has ever had, spent the night of her daughter’s birthday. Reading stories about the little toddler, the young girl, and the young woman her friends had known and loved, and who she loved most of all. She fell asleep that night with dried tear tracks painting her cheeks, but a small, content smile, and she dreamt of days long gone, days when she was with the happiest thing in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations:)
> 
> bye, guys! check out my other story in this series, which should be completed soon enough. I'm also going to add another story, just to make it a trilogy, so keep your eyes peeled for that. 
> 
> good luck to everyone going back to school, I go back in two days, so if you're anxious, I totally understand.
> 
> leaving you with some words of wisdom from our girl anne boleyn:  
"ainsi sera, groigne qui groigne". that basically means "let them grumble, that is how it's going to be".  
do whatever you want, y'all. as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, don't let anyone tell you not to do something.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this! I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible.


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